Her. Little butt. Reeks of the Damned.
I don't understand. We started out with constant odorless anal leakage. She pooped more than she peed. Many many dry diapers were tossed in the laundry hamper with only neon yellow butt smudges. She pooped when she laughed. She pooped when she sneezed or coughed. She pooped when she slept. There seemed to be no rules or cause and effect. It was poop chaos.
Soft baby butt cheeks marinating all day in acidic butt juice is a bad thing.
Diaper Rash City!
We fought it every way possible. Butt paste and petroleum jelly and prescription ointment. Fleece liners. Nakey butt time. Frequent changes. Powder. Prayer. I even caved in and went to disposables for a week so I could strip all the dipes (boiling the cotton pieces and using Dawn on the synthetics followed by 716254 rinses in cold water to rid them of residue.) Nothing seemed to help. I cringed every time I opened her diaper to third degree chemical burns and setting my alarm for every 90 minutes to change her at night was starting to
Perpetual poop producing predicament!
Holy poop bottoms Batman!
Nine weeks of this hot mess...
If you look at her butt now, it's perfectly smooth and blemish free. Just as baby skin should be.
What happened? How did we fix it? What sort of butt paste-ing concoction worked? Or advanced diaper wrapping technique? Blood sacrifice?
Nope... She just... stopped pooping as often.
Therefore less poop per time, less poop damage, more cute baby butt!
It happened over night. The pooping pause. At first I was doubtful. A few hours went by with no butt water and then a few more. I dared to breathe a sigh of relief. Her poor hiney started looking better in less than 12 hours. Yes, Relief. Maybe we were somehow back on the right track?
Relief turned into eyebrow raising the next morning. Where was the poop?! I was changing sopping wet diaper after diaper. No yellow seedy nuthin! Not even so much as a mini skid mark or a tiny baby shart. By that evening, I was a wee bit worried. Where was the poop?!?! I know I had wished it away but that couldn't possibly be good for her. "Better out than in" as Shrek would say. I slept fitfully, had bad baby poop nightmares and woke up with the overwhelming need to rip open the diaper like a Christmas gift and see if the "prize" was there. Nope. No poop!
And a third morning. Still no feces. So I did what I always do and I googled. I googled "2 month old" and "no poop". And I got an answer I forgot about: some exclusively breast fed babies don't poop for up to eleven days and they are ok. I remembered scoffing at these articles. Not my serial pooper!
But now? Possible?
I thought surely, I guess, that could be the situation here. I starting counting on my fingers and doing the mental math to calculate what that meant. A teaspoon or so of goo every, say, four minutes. The minutes to hours, to days. How much poop was in there? A quarter cup? A cup?
And then it happened. The poop. I was still ticking off fingers and visualizing wet measurements when Lizzie stared at me with that deer-in-the-headlights look and farted. Not a toot or a pfffffttt. It came from her rear end growling in a low pitch, like a pissed off grizzly bear, and it was wet sounding. Atomized poop mixed with air mixed with liquid SHIT. I was afraid. Now we were both staring at each other with deer-in-the-headlights looks. Time slowed to a halt.
Eventually I flipped her around in my lap and hooked a finger in her waistband to take a gander at the damage. At first I didn't see anything. No poop. And then.... I saw it.... a rising bubble, slowly blooping out the diaper and up her back. It looked like a sludgy hot tar pool bubble. Only yellow. It came up and out, and popped.
The smell !!!
Chaos reigned. Hell on earth.
It popped in the general direction of my closely-inspecting face so fecal matter got in my mouth and in my hair. Fecal Matter people!
The dog came over and licked a splatter from the arm of the recliner and I puked in my mouth.
OMG WTF Chewie! Get in Chewie's House NOW!
I grabbed a dish towel from the floor near my chair (it's a mess here, folks) and wrapped her little ass up into a baby origami shit eggroll and stumbled to the changing station. As I lifted the tabs on her diaper cover, I slowly realized that double gussets and high quality elastic had fully contained the Hiroshima of baby poop-splotions. Goo had spread north, south, east and west and coated every inch of cloth diaper and cover. Even between the two and in between the folds of the prefold. My calculations were off! This was three cups at least! I was this close to taking her to the trash can and shaking the diaper off into the bag, but I didn't.
(Patting myself on the back)
It was so indescribably disgusting. It wasn't even watery like usual. It was... thick... pasty.... butt mud.
I just grabbed wipe after wife, scraping each one up her tush to scoop up a handful of butt mud and tossing it in the trash. And the next. And the next.
She was laughing, I was laughing, it was hilarious! But gross. Funny. But disgusting.
Nothing was salvageable. Not baby gown nor diaper cover nor socks nor changing pad nor my nursing top.
And her poops have been like that ever since. Every three days. Two days of farts and the third day: gratuitous butt mud. Like clockwork. It's a whole new era of diaper changing but the prefolds have stood their ground and continue to contain it. Unlike the disposables. Don't even get me started on that!
But the farts...
My God, the farts...
Paint peeling from the walls, burn your nostril hairs, blame your husband because it had to be him, farts.
They will bring you to your knees and stain your upholstery.
They do not meet EPA guidelines.
But that's ok. Whatever it takes to keep her sweet baby butt cheeks free of shit chemical burns. I'd rather have it this way. But then again, I haven't had the pleasure of experiencing the farts or the poo-splotions in public.
Ask me after my first "Oh-My-God-stone-me-now fart, fart, BOOM!" diaper.
I'm sure I'll feel differently.